


thinking about you

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e05 4722 Hours, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it she said before? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, everyone has physical needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	thinking about you

She’s learned the cavern pathways by now, and navigates them with her nose buried in rows of carefully printed numbers. The computer could do the job faster, but she needs the computing power for other things. She’ll find the pattern herself, it’ll only take little while longer. And in the meantime, she needs Will to move some equipment for her. The wires are stretched as it is and they can’t exactly pick up replacements if any of them break.

“Will?” she calls as she turns the last corner in this particular path. There’s a room of sorts here, but it’s too far from everything else to make it really usable for anything, so she’s not really expecting to find him standing in the corner when she glances up. “Oh! Will. I need your help moving the-”

“Not a good time, Jemma.”

Something about his tone stops her in her tracks. His back is to her so she can’t make out his expression, but his shoulders are tense and his head is bent as though he’s in deep concentration.

“Is everything all right?” she asks. She steps to one side, trying to get a better view of him. “Are you hurt?”

“No!” he says a little too quickly. She has some trouble believing that, with the way one of his hands is pressed flat to the stone over his bowed head, like he’s bracing against some pain. She knows he’s used to dealing with his own injuries, all alone as he’s been, but she can _help_.

He’s gotten better about that though, in the time they’ve been working together. Last week he cut his hand on a jagged piece of metal and brought it straight to her for examination. It was very big of him, she thought. So why is this different?

She takes a wider look at the room, at the position Will’s in. Alone. In a cave they never use.

He was all by himself here for so long and he hardly ever shows signs of mental deterioration. She has her theories as to why he’s handled it so well, but she’s not Andrew, psychoanalysis isn’t really her thing. Perhaps this is him finally acting out.

The dirt under her feet shifts loudly in the quiet when she takes a half step back.

“ _Jemma_ ,” Will says in a tone she’s never heard him use before. It cuts right through her.

His right arm - which up to now has been hidden by his body - slowly lifts to join his left against the wall. His hand shakes as he uncurls it and she can see how much of a struggle it is to flatten it.

Against her will, Jemma’s head tips to one side and her eyes drop. Will’s front is in shadow but she’s fairly certain she can see-

“I really need you to leave. _Right now_ ,” he says, still in that voice that leaves her mouth dry and her nerves on edge.

_Oh._

She turns tail and walks swiftly back to the main cavern.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she says into the stony silence. It hasn’t ebbed at all and she refuses to sit through an entire dinner like this.

“Drop it.”

“I’m just saying, given your situation, it’s only natural-”

“We are not talking about this, Jemma.”

“I only want you to know I don’t think any less of you. We all have physical needs.”

He sighs into his soup. “I should’ve sewed your mouth shut.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It really isn’t a big deal. And she’ll even forgive him for not putting a sock on the door like any civilized man seeing as they don’t exactly have doors and they have too few socks to spare for such things. She giggles around the pen in her mouth.

There’s a certain rock on a certain hill that is actually the perfect shape for her back and she enjoys sitting out under the stars while she checks the day’s numbers. With her back to their little valley and her feet up towards the ridge, it’s as close to lounging as she’s come on this planet.

The numbers blur in front of her eyes while she thinks of Will trying to hide from her - not that she wants to see that sort of thing - but it’s perfectly natural and he shouldn’t feel ashamed. Besides, _she’s_ the one who feels guilty, she’s the one who’s invaded his space. Before she came along, he could do such things wherever he liked.

The giggle in her throat peters out before it reaches her mouth.

Will, sitting on the edge of his cot, his hand tight around his cock. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly parted as he draws himself out. It’s an image that, once in her head, she can’t quite dispel.

She swallows the remains of the giggle down and shakes herself firmly. While a little self-gratification is all well and good, it’s disrespectful to think of Will that way. After all he’s done for her, he’s proven himself to be more than some barbarian ruled by his baser impulses. A distinction for which she is keenly grateful.

She pushes aside the rude mental image and returns to her numbers…

…only to frown at her own foolishness a moment later.

_He could do such things wherever he liked?_ Really? She may not have a great deal of experience with men pleasuring themselves, but she rather doubts Will was doing it everywhere in the cave. That’s just unsanitary. He probably always did it the same way she found him, though he likely did it a little closer to home. No point going all the way down there unless he’s trying to avoid a nosy scientist.

That last thought comes to her in his voice. The rough, unfamiliar one she heard this morning.

He was overwhelmed by the physical exertion. It’s a simple fact of biology. Just as it is a simple fact of biology that the lower register causes a reaction in her.

Her ankles uncross as a wave of- of _something_ rolls through her.

Another image invades her mind. Will in the cave again, but this time she’s standing in the scant space between him and the wall. His eyes are heavy and dark on her, searching almost the way they were when he had her in the cage. He has one hand braced on the stone beside her head and the other between them. He presses firmly between her legs and she jumps.

It’s odd to think that it’s bright outside here, but it’s far brighter than Will’s shadowed face in her imagination and brighter still than the inside of her eyelids.

She looks down. It’s her hand between her thighs, holding firm against her folds.

What was it she said before? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, everyone has physical needs?

She glances up at the stars. It _has_ been a while since she was last with a man. Before the uprising - before she joined the _team_. And, while it may not be the best way of measuring the rightness of an action, the only other person on the planet is doing it, why shouldn’t she?

She sets her papers aside and grabs a rock to hold them in place. Then she carefully unzips her jeans and shifts her hips to make room inside for her hand.

She knows the rhythms that work best for her, the places to touch that bring her the most pleasure. She doesn’t need an image in her mind, never has. They’ve made appearances on occasion, men she felt particularly attracted to in her everyday life would pop in midway through. They’re pretty pictures to look at while her hands are busy, but nothing more.

“ _Jemma_.” She hears Will say her name again the way he did in the cave. Fitting, with how filthy they both are, that it would be his voice rather than his face.

Her heels press into the sand, unsettling it and sending small avalanches down. She tips her head back against the rough stone. She cups her breast with her free hand, images rougher hands pulling at her blouse. The fingers teasing at her opening aren’t big enough, but if she tightens her legs around her hand she can almost pretend.

With her eyes closed, the image of Will shadowing her reappears. So much for not seeing his dirty face. His eyes are on her, steady and intent, like he’s determined to watch her through this.

She knows he stares sometimes, drinks in the sight of the only other person he’s seen in more than a decade. She doesn’t begrudge him the opportunity and even keeps her own eyes averted to allow him to carry on. But now, with him staring her full in the face as her blood roars through her veins and her fingers work at her center, it’s compelling. 

She nearly opens her eyes, not to break the spell of the vision but to see him better. She only remembers at the last moment and moans in a mix of annoyance and pleasure. Will - the vision of him - laughs in pure joy and reaches for her face.

The hand between her thighs is moving faster now, and all at once she crashes over the edge. Relief washes over her, leaving goosebumps on her skin and a lump in her throat in the shape of his name. Slowly, carefully, she extracts her hand from her jeans. She sets herself to rights with pleasure-muddled movements and her thighs rub against each other to hold onto a little of the pressure. She flexes her hand, loosening the muscles, and sighs.

The stars still shine overhead. She’s never done anything like that outside before, not on a planet of eight billion people with satellites spinning overhead. It’s an odd feeling, to think of their prison as _freeing_.

She needs to give herself a few minutes before she goes back inside. Her whole body is still buzzing and there will be obvious signs of arousal if he sees her now.

There are her numbers still to look over, but she doesn’t quite feel up to it now. She keeps her eyes on the stars, wondering idly if Earth - if _Fitz_ \- is circling one that can be seen from here. Something like guilt curls in her heart and when she shifts, it’s not to hold onto her waning pleasure.

She doesn’t want to think about that and so pushes the unpleasant thoughts aside the way she learned so well while undercover.

It’s a lovely twilight sky, for all it’s never-ending twilight. At least not everything about this planet is horrible. Her hand touches her cheek, the one Will was reaching for when the vision broke.

There’s no sun and her cell phone’s been sacrificed to the hunt for a way home so there’s no telling how long she rests in the aftermath of her fantasy, but she thinks it might be a very long time.

 


End file.
